


The Accidental Guitarist

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-10
Updated: 2009-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:25:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new “how they got Toki” fic, inspired by the new season<br/>Skwisgaar’s POV, if he’s talking “correctly” he’s speaking Swedish, I’m not doing the language cheats.  Same deal for Toki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Accidental Guitarist

_~long ago in a land far, far away (from most of us)~_

I am the fastest guitarist alive. It wasn’t always this way, but he’s dead now, and I can’t bear to dwell on that. He taught me everything I know, made me who I am. But thinking about it changes nothing, so I do my best not to.  
Nathan’s being stubborn, this search for a replacement. _I_ am the only one who can take his place, yet he insists on dragging us all over Scandinavia trying out one inferior dildo after another.  
As if I’d play rhythm to anyone else.  
This is stupid, just give me the lead and hire a new rhythm player if you really think we need another. I _don’t_ think we do, but nobody cares what I have to say right now.

We’re in Sweden now, this week. It’s been another long day of listening to bad playing. All these idiots who have turned up just because they think it would be cool to be in Dethklok, even _Nathan_ can play better than most of them and he really sucks.  
I can’t take it anymore, I have to get away for a while.  
Nathan stops me. “Hey. Where are you going?”  
“Outs. Don’ts be worrys, I comes back laters.”  
“But what if you like, get lost or something?”  
“Nathans, I ams from dis dildos country. I ams not goings to gets lost.”  
He starts to say something else, but the manager stops him. “Let him go.” At least Ofdensen seems to understand what I’m going through.

I walk out, I really don’t know where the fuck I’m going. I just want to get away from all that for a while. It’s nice, although it will probably get cold later. It usually does, unless they changed the weather since I left.  
It’s already dark. I wander the streets, taking turns at random. Looking into the windows of stores I don’t care enough to enter.  
We’re getting pretty famous, but I can still walk around unmolested, especially here where I blend in fairly well. Sure, not many people can match my height, but here I can usually still pass for just another Swedish guy.  
It’s kind of late, the few shops that are still open are closing. And I’m getting bored with just walking around.

There is a small coffee shop ahead, acting on impulse I go in. Again, no one seems to recognize me. Normally this bothers me, but in my current state of mind I welcome the anonymity.  
I order a drink and sit at a table. There is a guitar leaning against a stool, I guess they have live music here some of the time. I don’t really want to listen to yet _another_ guitar player today, but I stay anyhow.  
Soon a guy walks up on the small stage they have and picks up a guitar. Great, he’s probably another idiot who thinks he’s the greatest thing ever.  
But it’s just an old beat up grandpa guitar, maybe this will be different. I decide to listen.  
At least for a little while, I’m tired from all that walking and it’s nice in here.

Sitting on a stool, he plays what I’m pretty sure are church hymns. He doesn’t sing, so it’s hard to be certain. This intrigues me, someone playing just to play.  
There are only five people here, counting myself, the waitress, and him.  
He plays like he has no idea what he’s doing, hands and arms positioned awkwardly, yet it somehow comes out sounding just fine.  
I stop the waitress as she passes by. “Who is that? Why does he play here?”  
She glances affectionately toward the stage. “That’s Toki, he comes in and plays for us a few nights a week. The owner made a deal, he plays and we give him a meal. I’m sorry, I really don’t know much about him, he’s very quiet.”

Not even knowing why I am still sitting here, I order another drink. Something about this guy is intriguing, or maybe it has just been so long since I’d seen a musician who isn’t an asshole about it. Sadly, myself included.  
After a bit, this Toki puts down the guitar and the waitress brings him a plate of food. He looks really grateful, like he hasn’t eaten all day or something. Maybe he hasn’t.  
Once he’s eaten everything, he grabs a small duffel bag from the corner and goes out the door.  
For some reason I’m not even going to try to understand, I follow him. I’m not going to be obvious about it though.

He moves like he has a destination, somewhere he has to be. I follow, keeping a good ways back. There aren’t many people left on the streets at this hour. Everything but the clubs are closed, and the temperature will soon start falling.  
Why am I following this strange little guitar player? Maybe not so little. I’m unsure of his age, his baggy clothes make him seem younger and smaller than he probably is.  
We walk a long way, moving into a much seedier part of town. I’m not too worried though, people usually don’t fuck with me. To my surprise, he ducks into a strip club, using the back door. The little church music playing guitarist is also a stripper? This I have to see.  
I go in.

It’s a strip club for women, not that it bothers me. Being surrounded by horny women is never a bad thing. A few of them flock to me, I tend to have that effect, always have. The guy on stage looks like he's wrapping it up, so I order a drink and wait to see what will happen next. Actually one of my new admirers buys my drink, I let her.  
Toki is up next.  
I’m a bit surprised, those baggy clothes hid a very toned body. A few women gather for him, holding out the occasional bill. He lets them put them in his thong, but he seems uncomfortable about it. He doesn’t work the crowd very well like the last guy had tried to.  
I’m confused and intrigued, he seems to be unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Not that I’d actually even really met him, I’ve just been following him around for some odd reason.  
Write it off as boredom, maybe.

 

They don’t stay on stage very long here, just two songs. Soon he’s done, a small amount to bills bristling from his crotch.  
When he leaves the stage, I get up and loiter near the door, keeping watch. I’m expecting he’ll slip out again, and for some reason I’m still following. Sure enough, it isn’t long before he goes by.  
I follow at a distance, and see him slip into... an alley? What the hell? It’s got to be after midnight by now, what’s he doing in an alley at this hour? Still curious, I go to look.

It’s dark in there, I can barely see a thing. What I _can’t_ see is anything that looks like a person.  
Then a voice behind me, threatening. “Why are you following me and what do you want?”  
That wasn’t Swedish, but I understand it. Norwegian, I think. “I just want to talk to you. What are you doing in here anyway?”  
He moves into the weak light. “Well thanks to you, I can’t afford to get a room tonight. You distracted my biggest tipper, I didn’t make enough without her.”  
Oh shit. I didn’t realize... “So you’re going to sleep here? But it’s cold!”  
“Well I don’t have any choice now, do I?”

He moves away and sits against the wall, I follow suit. I still have no idea why I’m here. “I’m sorry?”  
He doesn’t say anything. What am I even doing here, sitting in a dark alley with some guy I’ve been following around town for no good reason? I have a nice warm hotel room just waiting for me to get back to it. Hmm, he said it’s my fault he has to sleep here. I have two beds, nobody wanted to room with me. “Your name’s Toki?” He nods. “I have a hotel room. Since it’s my fault yo have to sleep out here, come back with me.”  
“No.”  
I don’t understand. “Why not?”  
“Look, I’m not stupid. And you’re not the first guy who’s tried to take me home. No thanks.”

I wasn’t expecting that, I don’t even know what to say. He thinks I’m trying to pick him up like a hooker or something? I try to change the subject. “So... why do you leave your guitar at that place?”  
“It’s not mine, they just let me play it.”  
“Can you play anything besides church music?” Why am I even asking, this guy wouldn’t fit in a death metal band. He’s a... church music playing stripper, and who knows what else.  
“I can play other stuff.”  
“Have you ever heard of Dethklok?” We’re not that huge yet, but we’re known.  
“No, I don’t think so. But the only music I usually hear is what they play in the club.”  
“What about when you have a room, on the tv?”  
In the dark, I can barely see his sad smile. “The kind of places I can afford don’t have tv’s.”

Even at my lowest, I never lived this low. “Come with me. I’m not trying to pick you up, I swear. I messed up your plans, let me make it up to you.”  
“Why? You don’t even know me.”  
I really have no idea. It’s late, I’m cold, and I have a nice room waiting for me. Why am I sitting in a dark alley with a homeless stripper? “I don’t know, okay? Just come with me. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”  
Suddenly it starts to rain. That seems to make up his mind, he nods to me and grabs his bag. Hurrying to the street, I hail a cab and we get in.

When we get back to the hotel he’s like a little kid, trying to look at everything at once. You’d think he’s never seen a nice hotel before. Actually, he probably hasn’t.  
I check the lobby clock as we go in, it’s after two so the others are probably back in their rooms now. That’s good, I don’t know how to explain bringing some guy back with me. Chicks, sure, they expect it. But some guy? We get lucky and see no one.  
He’s amazed by the room, checking everything out. It’s amusing, but I’m still half drunk and really too tired to care. “That’s your bed. Watch tv or do whatever you want, I’m going to sleep.” He’s just looking at me, confused. Oh. “Here, this is a tv remote. Pay attention.” I show him the basic functions and he starts flipping through the channels.  
I go to sleep.

It’s still dark when I wake up, no light but what comes through the window from the street. If I don’t get a glass of water I’m going to be hungover in the morning. I don’t feel like moving, but I know I’ll pay if I don’t.  
Dragging myself up, I head to the bathroom.  
As I open the door, something small and moist falls on my head, startling me. Brushing it off, I turn on the lights.  
The bathroom is full of clothes, hanging everywhere he could manage to hang them. What landed on my head was the thong he’d been dancing in earlier. Well, at least it was clean? Leaving it where it landed, I carefully get my water and go back to bed.

When I wake up again, he’s awake, sitting up in bed and watching tv. “Toki?”  
He turns to face me. “Hi. Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”  
“I noticed you washed your clothes.” Kind of dumb thing to say, but I don’t usually wake up in a hotel with a strange guy, I’m a little off my game.  
“Yes, I have to wash them all whenever I get a chance.”  
All? Did he really mean _all_? I can’t tell, the blankets are pulled up to his waist. Not that I’m looking that hard, of course.  
He seemed to realize what I’m thinking. “Don’t worry, they’ll be dry pretty soon. If it bothers you, I’ll put something on now.”  
What was I supposed to say to that? “Whatever, I don’t care.” As long as the others don’t stop in and find me with a naked guy in the bed...  
I don’t really want to have to explain this.

“What’s your name?”  
Shit, I never did tell him, did I? “Skwisgaar Skwigelf. I’m here with my band, we’re looking for another guitarist.”  
I see him perk up a little at that, but there’s no reason to give him hope. Nathan isn’t going to try out some guy who doesn’t even own a guitar. I change the subject. “I’m ordering food, do you want any?”  
He shakes his head. “Don’t have enough money.”  
“We don’t pay. The hotel gives up food for free, you can have anything you want.” I toss him the room service menu. “You _can_ read Swedish, right?”  
He nods, studying all the choices. I decide to try something. “Cans you be speaking de Engklish?”  
He looks confused for a moment, but answers me. “Ja, buts not real goods.”

I’m going to take him with me today, he can speak English so he’ll be okay. Maybe we can make him a roadie or something? But for now, we need to eat. He shows me what he wants and I call it all in.  
I hang up and he’s gotten dressed, he’s repacking his clothes now. “I’ll leave soon, you don’t have to worry about me.”  
“No, stay. I’m pretty sure we can give you a job, if you want, so you never have to strip again. And you can meet the rest of the band.” That seems to appeal to him, I can tell he likes music. And he didn’t seem to like the stripping all that much.  
Our food comes, and we eat.  
Then we head to the room we’re renting for tryouts, I know they’ll all be there already. I’m running late today.

They look surprised to see him follow me in, so I try to explain. “Dis ams Toki. I tells him he can maybies be one of de roadies or sometings.”  
They just shrug it off, it’s clear that they don’t even care. They have bigger problems today, and why is it so cold in here?  
Nathan stalks over. “Skwisgaar, you gotta go talk to that owner guy. We’ve ben trying to make him turn the heat on, but he can’t understand us. Or he’s pretending he can’t, I don’t know. You speak this stupid language, you go talk to him.”  
Fine, whatever, I head for the guy’s office. We all stopped by there when we first arrived, I remember where it is.  
He agrees to turn the heat on when asked nicely, apparently they were just being dicks to him.  
This doesn’t surprise me.

I come back to find Pickles giving Toki a guitar lesson.  
“Nah dude, naught like thet. Bring yer elbows in... There, doesn’t thet feel better?”  
A few corrections and he’s playing much better, and what the hell? He’s playing metal. Maybe he found some of tv when I wasn’t paying attention.  
“Hey Nat’an! Let him try out. Dude’s never even played a ‘lectric guitar before, and look at ‘em go.”  
“Uh, hell no Pickles.”  
“I fuckin’ serious. Whatch this.” He takes the guitar back, and plays. Fairly complex stuff, but I could play it easy. Then he hands it back, and Toki plays.  
_Exactly_ what Pickles had just shown him. They have my attention now.

Nathan seems impressed, and walks over to them. “Hey. You ever heard that before? What you just played? Can you even like, understand what I’m saying?”  
Toki nods. “I can understands. Noes, I never hears that before, but I likes it.”  
“Huh. Skwisgaar, play something. I wanna see what he can do.”  
I’m not okay with this at all, but they don’t care. Knowing I’ll get no peace until I do it, I plug in my guitar and play. Hard, but not my fastest.  
He fucking copies me. I can’t believe it. I play faster, as fast as I can. I _have_ to be better.  
He tries hard, but I’m pleased to see that he’s just not quite fast enough.

Nathan turns to Murderface. “Go find the manager. I want this guy, we’re taking him and going home.”  
“Why schould I do it? Why don’t you jusht go yourshelf?” But he gets up and leaves, it’s pointless to try to argue with Nathan.  
I am not pleased. I was fine with him being a roadie or something, but I don’t want him in the band with me. Surely Nathan doesn’t plan to make him the lead, he has to give it to me...  
This guy, Toki... he can play like that when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s doing. What if he practices? How good would he be then?  
Murderface comes back with the manager, and I go sit in a chair and sulk.

It’s handled very quickly, Ofdensen producing paperwork for him to sign. It looks like he reads English better than I can, it doesn’t take him long to look it over.  
Toki Wartooth, that’s his name. Well at least it sounds like a metal name, even if it’s owner is pretty far from that. Then it’s done.  
Nathan comes over to me. “Well you got your way, you’re uh, the lead now. That should make you happy?”  
It _should_ , so why am I not happy?  
Look at him, hanging out with everybody like he actually belongs, like he’s an equal. He was supposed to be grateful to me for getting him a job, be my assistant that worships me. _Not_ a part of my band. I think I hate him a little.  
It’s not fair.

 

****

_~in the very recent past~_

He’s being difficult, but I keep pushing him. We got as far as the door before he freezes up again.  
“No Skwisgaar, you says I never has to does that agains!!”  
“Toki, you knows we all has to be doing whatever we can to helps. And dat’s de onlies udder job you ever has. Now gets ups dere and shakes it.”  
Unhappily, he goes through the door.  
He gets up there.  
He shakes it.


End file.
